Operation: Red Headed British Woman
by Pretty.Odd
Summary: "Look, Marik. I'm going to put this lightly by saying, I would rather dress myself up as the bloody Mega Ultra Chicken and dance around the Shadow Realm than go to this Ra-damned costume party of bollocks." Inspired by the Abridged Series. M/YB, Our favorite thieves are invited to a costume party, uh oh
1. Chapter 1: The Obligatory Introduction

**_A ridiculous Yugioh story inspired by the Abridged Series then twisted by my own twisted brain. The plot is the only thing I own. _**

**_-LINE-_**

Chapter 1: The Obligatory Introduction

There was a strange, arrhythmic thumping echoing (but not really because in order for a sound to "echo" the setting would have to be larger than a one bedroom apartment) beginning to splinter the door. The sun was shining directly across the pages of Bakura's book, Marik's ghastly singing from the shower was causing the lines in Bakura's forehead to feel like they were tattooed on and destined to never disappear, and now there was a bloody banging on their bloody brand new door.

Bakura growled and flung Crime and Punishment at the shared wall between the living room and the bathroom turned karaoke bar. (And honestly, Marik _must_ have been drowning kittens in there because no human could possibly be able to emit a sound as dreadful as that at such high a frequency.) The book hit the ground with a dull thud, allowing the flimsy paper covering to slip off and reveal the actual title of the book, 50 Shades of Gray.

The running water and (thankfully) the yowling suddenly stopped and Marik stuck his tanned head, soaked hair and all, out of the half open bathroom door. He was glaring but due to his flat hair and large eyes he only managed to look like a ruffled baby koala.

"What is it, Fluffy? You _know _I sing better in the shower and therefore demand three showers per day. Why are you trying to ruin my rehearsal time?" Marik finished his complaint with a haughty huff and upturn of the nose.

Bakura really was not one for attempting to reign his mild annoyance. Actually, Bakura was never one for attempting to reign his _mild_ anything. Bakura's range of emotions were extreme distaste to extreme anger. The only form of mild that the ring spirit was able to feel was mild amusement and that was only if he was in a decent mood. In this particular case of annoyance that the white haired man was feeling, it was more directed at the unyielding clatter that was threatening to break down their modest door than the soaking wet blond in front of him.

So Bakura forced himself to swallow the petty (but still hilarious) insults he balanced on the tip of his tongue in favor of throwing his house mate's lavender robe at his still disembodied head.

"Get the door. You utter twat." The second part of the statement was an afterthought but Bakura needed to insult something. A woman's virginity was just ripped in half in his book and if it were not for the interrupting door, he would have already read the rest of the sex scene.

Marik's face scrunched up underneath the robe and when he spoke next his voice was muffled, "I thought that was just you trying DDR again." Bakura's face definitely did not heat up and his ears and neck definitely did not turn an impressive shade of scarlet.

"That was one buggering time. Now put on your girly robe and get the door." Bakura turned on his heel and led the way down the hall to the ominous noises still emitting from the door

Marik shook his hair out and complied with the demand only with a moderate amount of grumbling, "I don't understand why _I_ have to get the door. Why can't Cranky McBritish put down his pornography for one-second to get off of his tush and answer the _bloody _door." Marik had taken months to perfect his impression of Bakura. It was an awkward period of time Bakura consciously chose not to remember because Marik had taken to following Bakura everywhere. Everywhere included the covert-super-secret ballet classes Bakura took in the silence of the night. In his defense a thief needed to be light on his feet. In Marik's defense he had been laughing entirely too violently to hear Bakura's defense.

Bakura pinched the bridge of his nose, "You do know I can hear every word you're saying, right?" Marik stuck his tongue out childishly in a way that, if it were anyone else, Bakura would have been insulted. But seeing as it was Marik, it only caused Bakura to (totally not, really it was just sun burn) blush slightly and turn away.

Marik finally flung open the door only to reveal a tangled mass of black hair ready to bang the head it belonged to against the door one more time. Once the hair realized the door was open, it looked up. Mokuba Kaiba would have tried to be a little more polite and shake the villains' hands but said hands were currently handcuffed behind his back so he settled for an amiable smile instead.

The two men who had the misfortune of answering the door and therefore, sealed their fate once this action was completed, shared a brief look of confusion before Bakura piped up.

"Is it Tuesday already?" Bakura looked at the calendar and pointed to Tuesday (Kidnap Mokuba was written in large red letters with what looked like blood but was actually strawberry flavored ink) to punctuate his point.

Marik suddenly adopted a bewildered look on his face as he pointed to the actual day of the week. "But Bakura, today is Thursday which was actually named after the comic book character Thor. Did you know that? But O-M-G remember his abs in The Avengers, Bakura?"

The white haired male roughly palmed his face, letting his fingers drag the skin underneath his eyes down. "Marik, I am well aware today is Thursday and I won't even touch the second part of your statement. I was simply—"

"And remember that Thursdays are our massage days! You said it wasn't gay as long as both of us weren't naked so that's why I'm the only one naked during our massages."

Marik glanced quickly between Bakura and Mokuba with a naive pout gracing his face. The former looked slightly embarrassed but slightly more murderous and the latter looked a little greener than he had when the villains first opened the door. Mokuba cleared his throat.

"Well, as long as one of you doesn't have to dress up as a dog, I won't judge." Bakura's pale brow raised and he opened his mouth, ready with a silver-tongued quip but Mokuba continued as if he hadn't left a pointed pause at the end of his sentence.

"The reason I'm here is to invite you two to my birthday party."

There was a pregnant pause. A pause so pregnant that if it went on any longer it would have definitely gone into labor right in the entry-way to Marik and Bakura's apartment. Luckily, Marik started cackling before the pause's water broke. Bakura seamlessly joined in until the two of them were clinging to each other in their hysteria. Mokuba simply pursed his lips and waited for the two thieves to control themselves.

"Let me get this straight," Bakura wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling, "you. Mokuba Kaiba. Brother of 'The Man With the Largest Stick in the World Up His Arse', want us, world class—" Mokuba coughed out a disagreement that went unnoticed by the white haired villain, "—thieves, to set foot in your _grand mansion_ filled with valuable things just begging to be stolen?" Bakura placed a finger across his lips and furrowed his brow before asking a final follow up question.

"Also, why did you have to show up in handcuffs?"

Mokuba huffed childishly and tossed his head in a futile attempt to flip his hair out of his face. "I'm inviting you to my party because I would rather not be surprised and kidnapped. If you two are there I, and the pharaoh, can _at least _try to keep an eye on you." At the mention of their sworn arch enemy the two thieves cringed.

Marik rested his arm against Bakura's shoulder and slouched like a slender model on the set of a photo-shoot. (But don't ever tell Marik that. People on the street have made the mistake and had to endure forty minutes worth of poses from the tanned egyptian.)

"Why would we," at this he nudged his head in Bakura's direction, "want to go to a party with the shrimpy king of CRAP and his gang of friendship whores?" At this Mokuba seemed to brighten and a sly smile slid onto his face.

"Because this party is a costume party and whoever has the best costume wins."

Marik brought a finger to his lips and Bakura could see the rusty gears working inside of the egyptian blond's head. Marik pondered his thoughts aloud, "So this party allows us to dress up in any manner of clothing we wish?" Mokuba nodded slowly, smile still plastered on his face. "And the pharaoh will be there...dressed in some form of ridiculous clothing?"

Mokuba, again, nodded before he said, "Last time I saw him, he was trying on tutus for the party."

Marik's eyes turned predatory and his entire demeanor shifted to that of the proverbial tomb keeper who ate the pharaoh. Bakura set his footing and gripped the doorframe with more purpose. Had he been a half-decent person he would have warned the mop of black hair in front of him of the impending event but he'd rather wait for the reaction. He knew what was coming next.

Marik started off with a low guffaw from the back of this throat that reminded Bakura of the lullabies of fat toads he used to hear centuries ago on the Nile. The blond Egyptian then escalated from the husky laugh to his trademark high pitched cackle and Bakura had to admit, the transition between the two evil laughs was seamless.

"This is the perfect opportunity to embarrass the foolish pharaoh and his baby panda! Bakura, can't you see? Our evil plan is simple! We must obtain better costumes than Yugi and once we win the contest, he'll be so mortified that he'll never play a single card game for as long as he lives!" The evil laughter carried on for another minute before slowing and finally ceasing.

Bakura rolled his eyes. The odds of the crazy haired brat not playing another card game after losing a simple costume contest was far fetched but the chance of wounding the pharaoh's ego was too good to pass up.

"Marik, you're usually an idiot," Marik's face fell significantly. Bakura did not miss a beat in his speech, "But this time you've actually come up with a plan I am not ashamed to participate in." Marik straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest causing his abdominal muscles to expand and contract in a way that was completely, not at _all,_ appealing to Bakura in any way. The white haired man clumsily turned his attention back to Mokuba and again asked why the boy was handcuffed.

"Oh, well I figured if it looked like I was _already_ kidnapped, you wouldn't have to fight the urge to kidnap me and then you'd actually listen to what I had to say." Mokuba shrugged his shoulders as best as he could with his hands still cuffed.

Bakura opened his mouth swiftly and efficiently. "Have you considered dressing as a bondage slave for your party?"

Mokuba kicked the ground sadly and whispered, "Yugi would just steal my spotlight."


	2. Chapter 2: One Week Until the Party

**ORHBW**

**Chapter two: One Week Before the Party**

Bakura stirred in his sleep. There was the faint noise of rustling sheets as he lithely stretched then curled his body. He let out a hefty yawn that would have continued for a longer beat if it were not interrupted by the rough sound of paper crunching together. The white haired male stretched again, this time feeling his foot rub against a scratchy, flimsy surface. Bakura immediately pried open his eyes and sat up with talented care. His burgundy sheets pooled around his waist making him seem more like ruffled royalty rather than a ticked thief.

Bakura only became painfully aware that the entire apartment (or at least the entire bedroom) was littered with lavender sticky notes when he nearly sliced his index finger open on a particularly sharp note (which read, _Sexy Ghost_) dangerously close to his bedside table. Bakura didn't have time to wonder how, exactly, Marik padded around their shared bedroom in the night without the tomb robber stirring from sleep because he was momentarily blinded by the onslaught of pastel purple that seemed to reproduce out of no where.

The appearance of these malevolent post-it death notes obviously coincided with Marik's recent obsession of hastily jotting down _every single bloody_ costume idea that entered his beautiful (and regrettably small) head. Previously Marik attempted to verbally inform Bakura of his ideas. This method was working for a few days, but after Marik mistakenly suggested Lady Gaga for the sixteenth time the night before, Bakura simply threw his arms up and locked himself inside of their single bedroom. Marik must have stayed up the entire night in order to cover every conceivable surface within Bakura's line of sight, sans the thief's own body, with the horrendous, lavender post-its.

With the tact of a trained thief, Bakura cautiously toed open his door; leaving his hands free to protect himself against another attack. The white haired spirit was ready to concede to the fact that he could now only see in one hue and, if anyone asked him, (which no one would because the only one who would ask is Marik and he was entirely too busy with planning a costume that would reduce the haughty pharaoh to tears) he would say that a giant gay snowstorm hit their humble apartment.

Bakura didn't even have to voice his thought to the plotting blond because he could already predict what the difficult Egyptian would have to say in response, "It is you who is a giant gay snowstorm! Look at your hair! You look like Liberace in the Arctic Circle."

Bakura would roll his eyes skyward then twist his face into an expression of exceptional apathy. At this point Bakura's arms would be pretzeled across his chest and his hip would be slightly cocked.

"Marik, Liberace never even _lived_ in the Arctic Circle." Bakura would have been sure to roll his tongue slightly on the "r" in Marik's name.

Marik would huff and then step forward threateningly, rising to the bait Bakura carelessly tosses out. "I know that!" He would scream, his voice would take on a higher, more defensive, pitch. Marik's shoulders would tense and his hands would have already been balled into fists. Bakura had noted at the beginning of their partnership how simple it was to reduce the Egyptian into an angry, fuming child. The white haired man would find himself antagonizing Marik more often for his own amusement.

Bakura would roll his eyes while huffing out a brief, dry laugh that would blow across Marik's face in a gust reminiscent of cigarette smoke,

"Whatever you say," Bakura would hum.

Bakura would then turn his back and exaggerate his exiting step; all the while knowing Marik would violently turn him back around. The white haired thief would only let his mouth form the ghost of a smile as he feels Marik's hand tightly grip his shoulder. Marik would spin him forward.

"Bakura, while the famous and flamboyant Liberace might not live in the Arctic Circle, the always formally dressed bird, the penguin, indeed _does._" Marik would huff and upturn his nose in order to signify his supposed superiority.

Bakura's eyebrows would twitch and threaten to rise. He knew the blond's knowledge of animals _not_ from the Egyptian desert was slim but, Bakura would not admit this to _anyone_ out loud, the white haired thief had watched his fair share of Frozen Planet (narrated by the great David Attenborough) while Marik was out committing vaguely evil deeds. Bakura would immediately know he has one up on Marik and he would make the moment last for as long as possible.

"Marik," Bakura would purr, positively glowing. "Are you absolutely sure those fat birds live in the Arctic?" At this Marik would clench his fists tighter, most likely leaving little nail mark crescents in his palms.

"Why wouldn't I be frigging sure, Fluffy?" Marik would definitely use the nickname Bakura abhorred, if only to try to distract the thief enough to win the argument by default. Bakura has worked with Marik long enough to know that his style of argument was centered on diversion and deception rather than making any sort of logical point. If Bakura stayed on task and didn't let Marik's comments crawl under his alabaster skin, he would easily be the victor.

At this point, Bakura would have casually made his way to their dramatically large, wooden dining room table, which was purchased solely by Marik in order for the two villains to have Evil Council meetings and to have a greater number of dastardly dinner discussions. The white haired thief would seat himself at the head of the table, a seat coveted greatly by the power hungry, Marik Ishtar, while plopping his muddy, clunky boots on the wooden tabletop. Bakura had noted in the past that this particular tactic caused Marik's forehead vein to protrude at a hilarious angle.

Bakura would tip his seat condescendingly, causing his white hair to gently brush against the maroon carpet with a softness that could only be rarely attributed to the tomb robber. He would let Marik steam for a moment before saying, "because Penguins live in the _Antarctic,_ you absolute berk." This phrase would be tossed at Marik from across the room in a careless lob, hitting him harder than it was thrown.

Marik, after sputtering for a moment, would heavily step onto the table and lean over Bakura with his hands firmly at his hip. Marik's forehead vein was swelling to unprecedented levels and Bakura would be half afraid the blond's head would explode. The Egyptian would reach down and tightly grip Bakura's collar, pulling the pair nose to nose. Marik's breathing would ghost across the white haired male's face, leaving Bakura's cheeks a rosy red. Marik would then lean in further, finally—

The elaborate fantasy that had consumed Bakura was interrupted by the grating sound of a straw slurping up the contents of a more than half empty milkshake. Bakura blinked a few times. Marik was seated on one of the few dining room chairs not completely devoured by dreadful lavender notes, sipping delicately on the remainder of a Wendy's frostie.

"Did you get to the part where we had sex, Bakura? Because Ryou says whenever you make that face it's the part where you are having sexual relations with me!" Marik's face was simply interested and not the least bit disgusted. The tomb robber was bewildered and, again, momentarily blinded by lilac that covered the entire dining room and mushroomed into the entire kitchen as well.

"Marik, how do you even know what I was thinking about? Let alone who was involved?" Bakura spoke slowly, attempting to wrap his weakened mind around the predicament in which he was involved. The mention of Ryou, Bakura's estranged ex-host who drops by for convenient visits to Marik when Bakura dedicates himself to the frequent nights of theft and debauchery. Bakura always had a sense his lighter half divulged pertinent information about him to his partner (in crime) but never enough evidence to formally accuse.

"Oh, Ryou _never_ leaves anything out! And I'm not even mad you want to do things in the butt with me because Ryou says that doesn't make me gay as long as I don't want to! And you know how much I like women, Bakura."

Bakura isn't entirely sure how to respond to Marik's blatant statement but he begins his response with an impressive eye roll at the blond's attempt to feign heterosexuality. The crown river of Egypt might as well have crashed against Marik at that moment. Marik's face was fleetingly guilty before breaking out a comically hefty pad of purple post-its. "Wow! Great costume idea! As a tribute to my love for women I could be Hugh Hefner and you, Bakura, could be one of my many bitches!" Marik hastily scribbled this new idea onto a fresh post-it and stuck it directly onto his chair with a proud smile.

The white haired thief slapped his own forehead forcefully and collapsed onto their couch in the adjoining living room. His call to Marik was muffled due to the fact that his face was cradled in his hands, "Make me a pot of coffee or I'm taking the bedroom for myself another night." Marik groaned as he dragged himself to the kitchen, kicking up a post-it that read, _Liam Neeson from Taken_, on his way.

"The couch was so lumpy and you keep all of the monsters away! I can't handle that responsibility on my own!"

Bakura mumbled his next statement mostly to himself as he settled into the couch, "You can barely handle coming up with a bloody costume for the bloody Kaiba brat's party." A crash was heard from the kitchen and Bakura's expectation of coffee died a violent death. Marik stomped out of the kitchen holding the only in tact piece of the coffee pot: the handle.

"Well," he started with his hands on his hips, "If a certain _someone_ decided to help me instead of locking their limey _arse_ into the only bedroom then maybe I would have decided already!" The blond punctuated his point by waving the black handle in Bakura's direction.

"Look, Marik. I'm going to put this lightly by saying, I would rather dress myself up as the bloody Mega Ultra Chicken and dance around the Shadow Realm than go to this Ra-damned costume party of bollocks." The white haired thief wasn't yelling but he was close to that point. He's had to deal with an excitable Marik for almost a week since the brat broke the news. Marik quieted for a moment and visually looked Bakura up and down. Just as the tomb robber, king of causing discomfort in others, began to feel violated, Marik perked up.

"You're not much of a chicken, Fluffy—" there was a hiss from Bakura's direction. "You seem more like a Natalie Portman in _Black Swan_ except not the black swan!"

Bakura felt his face flatten and the corner of his mouth twitch, "so, I'm the white swan, then?" Marik threw the coffee pot handle, most likely breaking something else in the tiny apartment, and gracefully pirouetted onto the dining room table.

"Precicely! I am Mila Kunis and you are my white swan! Together we will sashay into Kaiba's Mansion and dance all over their friendship infested faces! And we'll steal the presents because _everyone_ knows you can't have a birthday party without presents! It's pure evil!"

Bakura abruptly stood up and walked calmly back to the bedroom. He shut the door in order to block out Marik's declarations of, "What?! It's a really evil idea!"

**Wow this took forever to update. I worked on this a lot during my winter break and now that my break is basically over the next update might take a while. I do hope you all enjoy this chapter and review! I love hearing feedback on what you all enjoy. **


	3. Chapter 3: 6 Days Until the Party

**6 Days Until the Party**

"I've called you all here for a _very_ important reason," Marik's nasally voice rung out, disrupting the previous silence that pervaded the room. The lavender eyed man paced in front of his unnecessarily large dining room table with an exaggerated sway of his hip while thrusting his phallic shaped rod in the faces of his listeners.

Seated around his dining room table was a collection of the fiercest villains he knew. Each week, Marik would gather the group together to discuss various despicable deeds they could potentially commit in order to utterly humiliate The Pharaoh. These evil men could, (maybe, possibly, if none of them even considered touching the complimentary cheap wine Marik supplied during the meetings) help him carry out his **most** evil deeds (and their minutes keeper, Zombie Boy).

"I need every single one of your evil minds sharp and focused on the evil task at hand." To punctuate his point, Marik struck a domineering pose every time he used the word 'evil'. He failed to notice the sniggering of the two youngest members of the council, Rex and Weavil, as they carved two tally marks onto the surface of the table. The tallies joined a collection of about fifty, which kept a count of Marik's numerous uses of the word 'evil'. Alongside this set of tallies was another labeled with the heading, "words that could also mean penis," which had a significantly greater number of marks.

Pegasus, who was previously powdering his nose in a small, compact mirror, let out a childish huff, "what, exactly, is this task?" He expressed his impatience with an icy glare that was virtually ineffective due to the feminine splash of blush on his cheeks.

"And was it really necessary for you," he pointed at Marik, "to order me here? To your poorly decorated love-nest instead of my remote island where I planned to spend a lovely weekend with my new cabana boy, Juan?"

The table of villains collectively groaned at the typical overabundance of information Pegasus supplied. Bakura, who was previously scribbling on his meeting notes, what looked suspiciously like, _Bakura Ishtar_, stopped his writing to curl his lip in disgust at the silver haired man. Zombie Boy paused his typing and attempted to ask, while quickly realizing he would probably not be heard, whether or not the statement should actually be recorded in the official minutes. Dan Green shifted in his seat and leaned closer to the exit door.

Marik shuttered and replied with care in order to not vomit out his next statement, "I did not need to know _any_ of that information, Pegasus. And also," Marik's voice took on a defensive, yet still clueless, edge. "This is not a love-nest! This is Bakura and I's very dastardly plan-pad, okay?" Marik even waved his arms in the direction of the needlepoint wall hanging situated directly across from the dining room that read, "Dastardly Plan-Pad Sweet Dastardly Plan-Pad." He then guided his eyes over to Bakura for a moment, hoping to receive some sort of affirmation but the white haired thief didn't acknowledge the quip.

Marik had originally assumed, when Bakura stumbled upon his collection of idea-post-its and locked himself in their bedroom, that Bakura just wanted a little bit of space. He's gone weeks in the past without talking to Marik due to a bad mood, but the Egyptian's instincts told him that Bakura's coolness this time was for another reason. An emotional reason. Marik shivered. He was completely averse towards dealing with any form of emotion that was more complicated than petty anger and, more recently since he's been living with Bakura, sparks of happiness. His tomb-robber roommate also typically did not display a colorful range of emotion but ever since Mokuba Kaiba knocked his big, dumb head on their door, the white haired thief had been acting less like the cold, ancient spirit he is and more like the stubborn, troubled teenager he appears to resemble.

Marik knew Bakura well after living with him for a few years and decided to push the mood change aside in favor of focusing on his current, evil task. Besides, if the issue was that pressing, the spirit would eventually express his (another shiver) emotions in the childish, unhinged and probably violent, way Marik has come to expect. Marik cleared his throat.

"I have called you all here for a very _evil_ reason!"—The loud scratch of metal against wood was heard—"I have called you all here in order to help me and Bakura…find a costume to wear to Mokuba Kiaba's birthday party." Marik turned his head left and right in order to look into the eyes of all of the council members. The reactions of the men around the table were varied. The two Steves, Umbra and Lumis, looked unfazed by the asinine reason behind the meeting. Rex and Weavil looked excited, most likely at the prospect of suggesting vulgar costume ideas. Teddy was grumbling at the lack of blood and gore. Zorc was already screaming out insipid costume ideas. Dan Green had finally made it to the door and Pegasus was absolutely distraught.

"Kiaba-Boy is throwing his darling baby brother a costume party and he didn't even invite _me?_" Pegasus' hands were tangled in his silver hair while his face was contorted in dismay. He glanced in disbelief around the table to see if any of the other uninvited members felt the same crushing disappointment. Marik just looked confused, "Why the frig would Rich Boy invite you?" The Egyptian glanced over at Bakura for some sort of answer but the white haired spirit was still hunched over his meeting notes, apparently not noticing the scene unfolding before him. Pegasus sniffed and poured himself a hefty glass of bagged wine, not acknowledging Marik's question in favor of aimlessly babbling.

"After _all_ we've been through together; all of the secret looks we've shared. All of the times I snuck into his bedroom just to watch him sleep. All of the times I've kidnapped Mokuba…wasted." The depressed man held up his glass in a solemn salute, proceeding to down every last drop of wine only to pour himself a new cup. Zorc attempted to offer his condolences to the bawling man while Teddy was basking in the chaos that was missing from the meeting just minutes before.

Marik watched the silver haired man mumble to himself for another moment before clearing his throat. "Anyway," Marik exaggerated his opening word in an attempt to both, regain the attention of the villains in the room and edge the remainder of the wine away from Pegasus. "I would like for all of you to write down costume ideas and then pass them all to me in order for me to read aloud!" Marik passed out slips of paper to each councilmember and returned to his coveted seat at the head of the table. Marik watched with pride and anticipation as each villain scribbled ideas onto their papers with only a minor amount of grumbling (and a significantly large amount of sobbing from Pegasus).

The Egyptian was just beginning to imagine the plethora of genius costumes his underlings would present him with when Weavil suddenly called out, "Hey uhh Marik? Does the 'I' or the 'e' come first in the word wiener?" Rex immediately responded with a loud guffaw, scratching another mark on the table. Marik slapped his forehead. The blond pointed his, extremely suggestive, rod at the duo. "I command you two brats to take this seriously! The ones with the best costumes at this party win some sort of prize…and, more importantly, _honor!_ The Pharaoh will definitely cry if he doesn't win _that!_"

For the first time since the meeting began, Bakura snarled. The mention of his enemy caused his icy indifference to thaw. He mumbled, "That bloody prick has entirely too much honor." Marik perked up at his roommate's voice and skipped over to him. Marik was thrilled that he could regain Bakura's attention. Their shared distain of The Pharaoh, along with their unyielding stubbornness, has held them together as a duo for many years. The Egyptian was relieved that at least part of Bakura's sour mood could be erased by simply mentioning Yugi.

Marik addressed the entire council. "You are entirely right, Fluffy!" The white haired man released a grumble that sounded as if it reverberated directly from hell. Marik continued on, unperturbed, "The key to our plan is to steal the Pharaoh's honor!" Marik paused and brought his index finger to his slightly pursed lips. After a tense moment, his face lit up again. "Therefore, I must dress up as the Firelord Ozai and burn half of the Pharaoh's face off! Then he must be cast out because I have stolen his honor!"

Bakura shook his head so hard that his hair obscured his face and hit the, no longer sobbing and but still drinking, Pegasus in the face numerous times. "Marik, you do realize that Zuko eventually knows the right thing to do is join up with the Avatar and defeat his father while finding pride and honor in himself and his new friends?" Marik snapped his fingers and muttered, "Frig. I thought I was onto something…" he trailed off just as Pegasus began to speak into his cell phone that he had clumsily wrestled out of his jacket pocket while the two thieves were talking.

"Kaiba-boy," the silver haired man purred, "What are you doing on this fine evening?" The council quieted and listened to, what they were sure was going to become, the strangest conversation they would ever have the discomfort of overhearing. Even Rex and Weavil ceased their childish mumbling and giggling in favor of watching Pegasus with a morbid interest. If Dan Green had not escaped twenty minutes before he would have greatly enjoyed the fool Pegasus was making out of himself. Pegasus gauchely switched his phone from his right ear to his left, accidently activating the speakerphone, allowing everyone in the room to hear both sides of the conversation. The entire council communally leaned forward in their seats.

The overwhelming sound of shuffling papers was heard before the unmistakable voice of Seto Kaiba answered, "Who the hell is this? This is my private line and it's one in the morning! Which means I'm currently working and paying virtually no attention to my young and vulnerable younger brother!" Kaiba sharply responded with no more, or less, annoyance than usual. Pegasus was not deterred in the slightest. The sultry laugh that escaped his mouth caused everyone in the room to shiver in discomfort.

"Take a moment to unwind! Relax!" Pegasus leaned back in his seat and put his feet up on the table. Marik seethed but Bakura held him back with wide eyes. The white haired thief was completely enthralled.

"But speaking of that _darling_ brother of yours, I hear he's having a birthday party! A costume party to be exact." Pegasus righted his seat and rested his elbows on the wood table while twirling a strand of his hair.

"Is this Pegasus? You need to stop making up excuses in order to call me and ask if we can dress up as Posh and Baby Spice together. It's never going to happen."

Pegasus grumbled in annoyance and knocked back another glass of bagged wine. "Kaiba-boy, I would just like an invitation to this festivity. You know how much I love dressing up." His voice dropped a few dangerous octaves while his eyes took on a predatory glint. A large gust of air sounded through the speaker, originating from the exasperated sigh that managed to force its way out of the billionaire's mouth. Kaiba responded quickly.

"Pegasus, I cannot say this enough, there is no way, in the seven layers of hell, that I am allowing you within five hundred feet of my brother. Let alone at his birthday party. Mostly because I really don't want to see what sort of costume you've concocted. Also because I'd rather not have to guard my drink with my life."

Mariks disgusted facial expression momentarily disappeared in favor of one of realization. "That's genius…" he mumbled, "Bakura!" He poked the white haired thief until his narrowed eyes were facing Marik. "We could spike the drinks with five hour energy! All of the party guests will have SO much energy that they won't know what to do with it!" Bakura's face went blank. He shook his head back and forth slowly and placed his index finger over his lips. Bakura pointed with his other hand at Pegsus, indicating that Marik should be listening to the embarrassing conversation before them and not suggesting idiotic ideas.

"Are you _sure_ you mean that?" Pegasus purred, "I'm so fun at parties!"

"No. Never." Kaiba decided the conversation exceeded his attention span and cut Pegasus short. "Also, tell those flamboyant, second rate, good for nothing thieves that they better not ruin _my_…brothers party." Marik huffed defensively and mumbled about being totally straight. Bakura was more miffed at being called a second rate thief. He then began planning ways to steal various items from right under the rich prat's nose.

Kaiba continued, "I really don't care what they do to Yugi; in fact the party might even be improved if they mess with him. But if they touch Mokuba, within three days, I'll notice and hunt them down two to six business days afterwards." The billionaire hung up the phone leaving a heartbroken Pegasus on the other end of the line. The council continued to stare as Pegasus somberly placed his phone down on the table and finished off the last of the wine. Marik cleared his throat, "So. How about I read these costume ideas?"

Bakura massaged his temples. He was sick of all of the preparation and the endless hours Marik would spend attempting to come up with the most _evil_ costumes. His partner (in crime!) was overthinking the entire situation and Bakura was the one suffering. Typically, he had to kick Marik out of their shared room at least one night per week for one reason or another. Since the Kaiba brat told them about the party Bakura had been bombarded with Marik's inane ideas. Because of his mounting annoyance with the blond, Bakura had made Marik sleep on the couch for the past two days. Bakura had been so close to finally breaking through to Marik about his feelings for the Egyptian and the distraction of the party has caused Marik to be even more oblivious than usual.

The tomb robber could only hope to make his final move at the party. This would cause both of them to successfully steal the show from the Pharaoh and, most likely, a few valuable items from the Kaiba Mansion. All Bakura had to do was attempt to maintain his sanity for six more days and drop a few overt hints along the way.

"Alright," Marik screeched, interrupting Bakura from his internal planning, "Who the FRIG suggested a plug and socket costume? And why would I be the socket?" The blond was franticly waving his arms in discontent as Rex and Weavil laughed until they couldn't breathe. Pegasus was barely able to sit up straight but that didn't stop him from commenting on the ambiguity of Bakura and Marik's strange relationship.

"Because Marik has the tush of a bottom." The statement was definitely less creative than usual but it still caused the man in question to color. Bakura no longer denies his feelings towards the oblivious blond and he couldn't help but to agree. "You know, Marik," Bakura started, "The extremely inebriated Pegasus raises an important point." The mostly red-faced Marik sputtered.

"Shut your frigging mouth, Florence! We still have costumes to pick out!"

Bakura groaned, "Would you stop calling me that! It reminds me of that red haired woman who sings about dogs and shaking." His face contorted with disgust as he imagined himself with red hair and singing on stage. He expected Marik to laugh at the image but when the blond quieted Bakura grew nervous.

"That's _it!_" Marik pointed a triumphant finger in the air. "This is the costume pair that will win us the contest _and_ the Pharaoh's tears!" Bakura was tense. The rest of the villains in the room were slowly disconnecting themselves from the meeting. The two Steves were completely asleep with their heads resting on the wood table. Rex and Weavil were carving pictures into the table. Pegasus was singing spice girls songs to himself while Zorc and Teddy played, what looked like, patty-cake. Bakura was the only one paying attention to his roommate. Marik looked up at him earnestly with his large, purple eyes.

"Bakura, you will dress up as Florence and I will dress up as The Machine. We will show up to Kaiba's party and blow everyone else's lame costumes out of the friggin water! This is the moment where all of our planning comes to fruition. I am hereby dubbing our mission: Operation Red Headed British Woman! Florence and The Machine will totally make up for all of our past mistakes!" Marik celebrated his stroke of genius with a hearty evil laugh, waking up the moon Steves in the process.

Bakura was annoyed and displeased with Marik's decision. The last thing he wanted to do was dress up as a woman but he couldn't deny the creativity behind the costume choice. He was absolutely certain that the Pharaoh and his friends wouldn't come up with anything close to this idea considering the fact that they were rather dry and vapid in the creativity department. The white haired thief also noted the expression of genuine pride on Marik's face. Bakura realized that if he agreed to this idea it would make Marik _happy_. Bakura sighed and finally said, "Operation Red Headed British Woman is a go."

Marik cheered while the rest of the council let out a simultaneous shout of relief that their services were no longer needed.

**Okay, wow! This took me only about a week to write and I really hope it's up to par with the rest of the story. I was really excited to write about the evil council and I hope you all had fun reading it! Also please review with your thoughts ! **


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